Balance
by xRavenwing
Summary: Walking is hard, nowadays. (this is a story featuring a disabled character, written by a disabled author. all experiences in this story are based off my own)


He was alone, unable to travel far beyond Bowerstone. Sometimes, it was hard to even reach his front door. The others had all gone on with their lives, and he-

\- he was here, in this one room, alone. And there was someone knocking on the door.

With a deep sigh, he heaves himself to his feet. The only outward evidence of the pain he felt shooting through his hip was his stiff posture and resigned expression. Today wasn't a good day, but so many of his days were bad days now that it was hard to use the energy he had on theatrics.

He limps slowly to the door, briefly holding onto each piece of furniture as he passes, and with his hand on the wall when there's no furniture. Every step is painful, but he holds the pain in the back of his mind. He'd never get anything done if the let the pain ride in the front of his mind (that's not to say that he doesn't have those days where he can't think of anything but pain, but luckily those are unusual).

The person at the door is not who he expects.

Hammer- or, Hannah? He's not certain - hasn't changed much. Her hair is short now, and there's signs of age that he doesn't remember her having before.

His first thought is to close the door. Luckily, his second thought overrides the instinctive fear and he merely leans against the wall, as much to take some weight from his bad leg as to appear casual. He doesn't know what to say, and it appears that neither does she.

Finally he sighs.

"What do you need?" It's the only question he can think of that isn't overly rude. She wouldn't be here if she didn't want something from him, he reasons.

"I just- can't I drop in and see an old friend?" Hannah (Hammer?) says, clearly uncomfortable. "I just got back, and- I heard you were still living around here. Thought I'd drop in and see how you were doing."

How he was doing? Well, precisely. It's what everyone seemed to want to know nowadays. People still knew him as the Hero of Bowerstone, after all, and apparently seeing their Hero limping around provided water for the rumour-mill. He blinked out of his thoughts, realising she was waiting for him to speak.

"I'm doing as well as can be, considering." With a grimace, he resolves his inner conflict and turns from the door. "Come on in."

Now, for the deception. Strengthen the stomach muscles, keep them tense and maybe, if he's lucky, the limp will be less obvious. It's draining and he knows he'll pay for it later, but if he can get to a seat- He wavers for a second, falling back into a deeper limp before bringing himself back together. His back is already aching.

He sits down in his usual chair as gracefully as he can manage and breathes a quiet _whuff_ of relief. Sitting down is better. The pain is still there, but far distant compared to how it normally effects him.

Hannah takes the seat across from him, and even without looking at her he can tell she's concerned. She always had a way of radiating her emotions.

"So, how are you?" He asks, tiredly. Better to start the conversation himself than let her begin. There's too many questions he doesn't want to field right now. She answers and he drifts out of the conversation, letting himself work through his entire range of small talk. Eventually he has to come back into the conversation. From the look on Hannah's face, it's time things took a serious turn.

"So, what's up?" Is her first, blunt question. He shrugs it off.

"How d'you mean?" It's a non-answer, but it buys him more time. He's still not decided what he wants to tell her, and probably won't until she tells him what she's there for.

"With you. You moved really stiff back there. Have you hurt yourself, or something?"

He doesn't want to explain. There's not much to explain, honestly. Nothing he can say that makes sense. One day, before I met you, I woke up and my hips felt like they were on fire. Things got worse from there, and it probably didn't help that I travelled hundreds of miles over the course of a few years and was kept for ten years in some kind of torture tower. Now I can just about get around town, but it'll hurt like crazy and I'll be stiff for the rest of the day.

He doesn't want to explain it.

So he waves the question away.

"It's not important. What really brings you here?" Okay, so maybe living with the pain so long has made him bitter. Hammer flinches, and he feels guilty. She'd never treated him badly, even if she was part of an unpleasant section of his life. "Sorry, just- having a bad day."

"It's okay. I've been-" she fidgets "-less than honest, I guess. Theresa told me to come back. I think there's something important, because she's found Garth and I think she's even convinced Reaver to be there. We're just missing you."

It would be something like that, wouldn't it? And here was him in no fit state for adventuring. Pity.

He laughs, though there's not much humour in it.

"Not sure how much use to you I'd be," he says. He still has his Will, of course, even if he keeps the glowing blue lines hidden. He might even have some of his Skill left. But none of it is any use if he can't even walk properly. "I'm out of the adventuring business."

She'd noticed. A house full of books, and not a weapon in sight.

"We need you, Blade. You're the Fourth. It doesn't work if it's just us three." It's the only real thing she has to convince him with. She knows something of his life, and she can sympathise with not wanting to return to adventuring. After all, wasn't it her that first swore off it? And here she is.

Unfortunately, it's not as convincing as she'd like.

"Not Blade, not any more. Jack'll do." He leans forward. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll do great. Between the three of you, you don't need me. What do I have that you guys don't?" Just because he's the Fourth doesn't mean he has anything extra. Everything he has, so do they.

"Bla- Jack, you're the one that kept us all together. It's not like any of us trusted Theresa, so we rallied around you. Do you know what it was like watching you die?"

Blade frowns. "Hey, guilt-tripping much? Anyway, wouldn't that be all the more reason for me _not_ to go back to adventuring? If it's so important that I stay alive."

Hammer has the grace to look contrite. "Sorry, that's not what I- Look. I guess I can't make you come." She sighs. "I'm asking you, as your friend. We need you. We can't work together without you. Just- come with me, and hear what Theresa has to say? Then decide."

Oh, god. Hannah had this terrible skill at making people feel _really sad_ for not doing what she wanted. Internally, Blade sighs.

"Fine. We'll go see what she has to say."

Now for the uncomfortable bit.

"Look, Hannah-" He swallows. "I- when I say I won't be much use to you, I mean it. There's... something wrong with me." At her worried face, he hurriedly clarifies, "it's not gonna kill me, but it's- you know earlier, you asked why I was walking funny? There's something wrong with my legs. I don't walk that great any more. I'll come with you to see Theresa, but it's not gonna be like you remember. You're gonna have to go at my pace."

... He doesn't like the look on her face.

"Look, I'm not looking for pity. I'm used to how things are now, and there's not gonna be any changing it. Seriously, stop making that face at me."

Hannah frowns and forces herself to look neutral. "When you say you don't walk so great, how'd you mean? I mean, you looked stiff earlier, but mostly-"

"I was making the effort to look normal, as much as I can. It's-" He shrugs, struggling to put it into words. "I'm not... unsteady, but don't ask me to climb anything or like, stand on one foot. I limp. It gets better and worse. Somedays I can walk for hours and be fine, others I can't go down stairs without having to hold onto something. Sometimes even sitting down is painful."

Her face just sorta... crumples. "Oh."

Blade groans. "Jesus, don't do that. I told you, I've accepted it. It's a thing, it's been a thing for a long time. People being sad for me isn't gonna do any good." With an outrush of breath he pushes himself up and out of the chair, the usual pain shooting through his hips. As usual, he don't outwardly show signs of it. "Come on, if we're gonna go, we should go. If we wait much longer there won't be time to get there before dark. And believe me, walking in the dark is so much worse now." He waves her towards the door.

"Up. Let's go."

Unable to do much else, she follows him. Now that he's not hiding it, it's far more obvious to her that something is wrong, as he said. He lists to one side with each step and braces himself on the wall with one absent hand. As he opens the front door, he freezes.

"Shit- two seconds, I've left my stuff upstairs. God, I'm so out of practice at this heroing stuff." He turns and makes his way upstairs. Hammer can't help but notice how careful he is, keeping one hand on the wall and sort of... pulling himself up each step with the bannister. She doesn't know for sure, but she thinks today might be a bad day.

She waits awkwardly in the hallway. Through the open door she can see townsfolk directing curious looks towards her. Upstairs she can hear Blade moving things around and muttering to himself. Part of her is glad that she can't hear what he says. She's sure that it wouldn't be kind.

Eventually he appears at the top of the stairs, and oh, it's good to see him. He looks more like the Blade she knew before - he's found out his long coat. It doesn't seem to fit him quite as well as it used to, but it's so familiar her heart aches. Looser in the shoulder and arms and somehow wrong around the waist, but it's still more him than before.

She can see too that despite everything, he'd kept his adventuring gear. There's a pistol attached to his belt and swung across his back is the gently curved sword he'd always sworn by. Coming downstairs, he smiles somewhat sheepishly.

"I'm not sure how much I can still use the sword, but I thought I'd bring it just in case."

Coming downstairs he seems better than going up, but she notices he still keeps a firm hand on the bannister.

"Okay, I think that's everything. We good to go?" He doesn't wait for an answer, pushing past her into the street. Some of the townspeople literally stop what they were doing, watching with open mouths. Their hero, actually going on an adventure? Some of the brave ones try to approach, but Blade cuts them down with a look. There will be no questions from the press, thank you.

"So," Hannah ventures, "does Theresa know about this?"

He shrugs uncomfortably. "I wouldn't put it past her. I mean, she's known me since I was a kid so she's seen me when it first started and nobody knew what was going on."

Hannah blinks. "Wait, so you've had this since you were a kid? Why didn't any of know about it? I don't remember you ever limping."

He hisses between his teeth. "I was- active, then, I guess? It hurt, but if you keep the muscles exercised, then the limp doesn't show. I mean, do you remember when I came back from the Spire? My walking was awful, then. It took me weeks to get it back to something that even sorta looked normal." He shrugs with one shoulder, simultaneously answering and trying to adjust his sword-strap.

"I thought you were just- I dunno, tired? You'd been there ten years."

"Well, yeah, but that's a part of it. There was no real point hiding it in the Spire. I just had to be able to do what was told, they didn't really care how many walls I held onto." He grimaces. "Look, let's not talk about it. I mean, we can talk, but leave the Spire out of it, yeah?"

She nods. "Sure. What do you, uh, what to talk about?" She's so out of her depth it isn't even funny.

"How's everyone else? Or is it just you so far?"

"Just me. Reaver's supposed to be on his way - I wouldn't be surprised if he's there when we arrive. Garth is, I dunno. Theresa says she's got it sorted."

"And you believe her?" There's an amused twist to his words. He knows that although he always (mostly) trusted Theresa, that the other mostly didn't.

"I don't think she'd go to this much effort just to give up part way through. I'm not sure I trust her motives, but I think she's getting us together for a reason. I'm just not sure it's a good one."

He laughs. "That's the thing, isn't it? Theresa lives so far in the future - or maybe the past, never worked that out - that it's hard to tell her motives." As he speaks, he trips on a loose cobble and hisses between his teeth. He stumbles to a stop, holding onto the parapet of the bridge.

"It's okay, just- gimmie a second," he says, forestalling her concerned question. "Just jarred something when I caught myself."

"I've never seen you trip before," she says, quietly. He bares his teeth, so quickly she almost misses it.

"I drag my foot, sometimes. If I'm not paying enough attention. It's nothing, don't worry." And don't ask, is the unspoken statement. Pretend this is the Blade you've always known, and not this broken ghost. Oh gods, what's she doing, dragging him along on this?

"Look," she begins uncomfortably, "we don't have to do this. I can tell Theresa that you couldn't-" Couldn't what? Couldn't manage it?

"That's a challenge if I ever heard one," he says, laughing bitterly. "We're doing this now. I told you, you'll just have to go at my pace."

It's gonna be a long trip.


End file.
